Books and Muffins
by MonochromaticHeart
Summary: Sherlock works alone. Always have, always will... or so he thinks. But what happens when he meets a certain someone at the bakery? Will Sherlock be able to sustain his solitude? AU. (Baker!John and Author!Sherlock.) Rated K for the first chapter.


**A/N: **Hello! This is my first story in the Sherlock fandom, as well as my first attempt at a Slash and AU fic. (Baker!John and Author!Sherlock.) But I'm going to do my best on this one! So, without further ado, here's chapter one!

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Books and Muffins

Just. Bloody. Fantastic.

Sherlock stalked his way along the grey, cracked pavement, his shoes sloshing puddles of water around with every step. He grumbled curses under his breath for the upteenth time that evening, agitatedly running one hand through his dark curls- which were more than slightly soaked from the ongoing rain. He passed several yards of buildings, boutiques, and more of the like, but didn't stop for any of them, seeing that each one was abandoned. No employee- or anyone in general, really- in their right mind would be up and wandering the streets of London at this time of night anyhow. Well, save for one Mr. Holmes, of course.

Sherlock Holmes had overstayed his usual visit to the public library this time. Finding the right book to match his mood seemed impossible; however, when he did, he had become far too engrossed in the world of fiction that time was suddenly the last thing for his brain to let him remember. It was only until the librarian finally came up to him and- after having to resort to slamming the book down in order to gain his attention- exasperatedly reminded him that she would have to lock up within ten minutes that the man (relucantly) agreed to taking his leave.

Outside, it had started out as a light drizzle and didn't bother Sherlock at first. The more he walked, though, the harder the rain came pouring down, and the quicker the tapping noises were made as it hit the cement. Just trying to look ahead caused some difficulty, as the drops would more than occasionally manage to tumble onto his eyes. Instead, he would keep his head low and glance around at his surroundings every so often.

The man pulled his coat closer to himself, then proceeded to jam his gloved hands back into his pockets. He began to take notice of the cold air and shivered slightly. The only thing he could do was quicken his pace as an attempt to distract himself from the gloomy weather.

Everything was closed. He _knew_ that everything was closed, and yet he continued to stroll along the path, still half-expecting to find shelter that might be nearby- or, at least, closer than what he would have to walk to get to his flat. It was quite a distance away. Normally, he would've taken a cab, had he not forgotten his wallet at home. Oh, such luck he's been having today. Maybe more would happen. Maybe he'd step on a piece of gum, or maybe he'd slip on the water. Worse seemed possible, judging by recent trends.

Or, maybe... Just _maybe_, there'd be something to make this night a bit more bearable.

To his surprise, he spotted a faint glow up ahead. It was coming from the inside of a building, and Sherlock couldn't speed-walk any faster to reach the newly found source of light. Sherlock stopped in his tracks and lifted a hand up to shield his eyes from the rain. He found himself face to face with what looked like a small cafe. There were at least two stories, the second one towering over him.

The only invitation he needed was the white lights that brightened up the cafe, making it look like some kind of savior that stood out from the rest of its darkened neighbors, and Sherlock pushed himself through the front door before he could give it a second thought. A tinkling bell sounded from above him as he entered. As expected, the tables were empty. It was quiet inside if you ignored the muffled _pitter-patter_ of the rain.

"Mm? Hello," a man's voice called out. Sherlock jerked at the sudden interruption to the silence and turned to find where it came from. To the west section of the shop, he found himself met with tussled-about blonde hair and blue eyes that stared back with such friendliness, but looked somewhat tired as well. He had apparently been cleaning the countertop in which he stood behind, seeing that a small rag was in his hand.

"Yes, hello," Sherlock half-mumbled, already glancing down and shrugging off his long coat. It was rather warm inside, he noted absently, and a delicious aroma filled the air- baked goods. "Pardon the intrusion, by the way."

The man gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Oh, it's fine, really." He hesitated, watching Sherlock drop his jacket onto one of the maroon chairs. Deciding to try and make conversation (since there were no other customers anyways), he spoke up once more. "It's raining cats and dogs out."

"I've noticed," he answered bluntly. Sherlock slid into a seat with a soft sigh and grasped at the back of his unruly hair. He scratched at it, as if to shake off the water to let it dry. Silence ensued as he hoisted his elbows up and propped them onto the wooden surface, pressing his palms together. He rested his chin on top of slender fingers. Now, he kept his gaze straight forward, but out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock could sense that the employee was examining every movement.

He counted, in his mind, exactly seven seconds before the man placed the rag back on the glass counter and headed towards where Sherlock was seated. He took small strides while fumbling with a pen in one hand and a small notepad in the other.

"Would you like to order anything?" the employee asked politely, looking down at the seated man as he halted in front of the table. He held his pen in a position ready to write.

Sherlock exhaled slowly before turning his head to have a look at the blonde. He must have accidentally sent the other a sharp look, because he could have sworn that he saw the employee flinch for a brief second. "I... don't have any money on me," he spoke in a low but firm tone. "And as you stated earlier, it's pouring outside. I came simply to avoid getting my clothes ruined."

Well, it's actually a little too late for that, Sherlock thought to himself.

He watched as a frown appeared on the employee's face. "Well, that's..." The man looked around the empty cafe, as if trying to think of how to deal with his only customer being broke. It took him a few moments to stop tapping the side of his pen onto his notepad before he finally resumed his gaze towards Sherlock. "You look a bit pale," he noted. "Are you sure you don't have anything? We have some cheaper selections, and those might do you some good."

"Absolutely nothing," Sherlock answered flatly. He tore his eyes away and instead stared straight ahead of him, right at the gold-couloured wallpaper. It was somewhat wrinkled, he noticed absently, and deduced that it must have been around for a long while. This certainly wasn't the first year.

The blonde fidgeted at his customer's unwillingness to compromise, along with that tense atmosphere that seemed to surround him. What was he supposed to do? Just let the guy sit there? And if so, who knows for how long?

Then again, the air around him also felt a bit... lonely. And that was something he couldn't just ignore.

"There's a basket of muffins sitting idly at the front counter," he spoke up rather boldly, given the fact that it seemed as though the other man had been trying to tell him off silently that whole time. "They're extras from this week, and on the house. If you like, I could bring you some."

There was a pause as Sherlock snapped out of his trance from staring at the wall, his eyes widening ever so slightly, but expression nevertheless the same. He considered the offer, but not as much as he tried to understand why someone would want to give him such hospitality. They didn't even know the first thing about each other. Granted, Sherlock could deduce a few things, but those small facts hardly gave him any reason to care about the other man.

Sherlock turned his head so that he was facing the employee's uniform. "...For free?" he asked simply.

The blonde let out a soft, warmhearted chuckle. "Yes, for free. I'll go grab a couple," he said, turning on his heel. "Be right back."

"Thank you, John."

The employee halted in his tracks after a mere two steps. "Excuse me...? You know my name?" he questioned over his shoulder, voice sounding like a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

"I noticed it on your nametag. That's all."

And with that, John responded with an, "Ah, I see," with a nod before continuing to make his way over to the counter.

Sherlock sat back in his seat. Without having much else to do, he ran through all of the possible outcomes of this night in his head.

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**A/N: **Thanks for reading! Chapter 2 is in the works. :)

_-MonochromaticHeart _


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